Tales of Gold
by AstroPhantom
Summary: A collection of my DuckTales one-shots, where mysteries will be solved and history will be (re)written into endless adventures!
1. Adventure Schedule (Chapter List)

**Welcome to my _DuckTales_ one-shots!**

This is my collection of one-shots for _DuckTales_, which may include everything from random ideas to prompt requests to event fics.

The rating/warnings of this collection will likely rise as time goes on, but those chapters will be clearly and appropriately marked, both on the chapter itself and on this chapter list.

Kudos and reviews are welcome and very much appreciated. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Tales of Gold ::: Adventure Schedule**

_** - Denotes fic with Mature content._

2\. **At Journey's End**

_Ch. 3-5_: "First Night Should've Been Like This" mini-arc:**  
**3\. **First Night  
**4\. **First Night (Should've)  
**5\. **First Night (Been Like This)**

6\. **The Knights of Team Uncle**  
7\. **Eyes On Me**  
8\. **Into the inferno**  
9\. In_ progress..._

* * *

In the words of Uncle Scrooge, remember: "Adventure is an unpredictable paramour." ;)


	2. At Journey's End

_**Note:** This shot does *NOT* contain spoilers for "Whatever Happened to Della Duck?!" save for a reference to something we got in the early clip. This is just pure last-minute speculation since I won't be able to watch the episode until tonight, and I wanted to get this idea out._

**At Journey's End**

* * *

For what it's worth, Della's return to Earth is relatively quiet.

Of course, no one is expecting it; after ten years of her presumedly being dead, why would they? And landing in the middle of some desert doesn't help garner attention either. By the time she shuffles along to the closest road, gravity and the sun bearing down on her, her rocket is well out of viewing range and at best she appears to be a worn-down hitchhiker.

Still, by some miracle, she makes it home. Home to Duckburg, home to McDuck Manor.

Mrs. Beakley's the first one to see Della out the window as she clamors across the front yard in broad daylight, and she gasps as if the Queen of England herself is paying a visit. Her first instinct is to yell for Donald to answer the front door. The second is to call the Money Bin, where Scrooge currently is.

As soon as the line picks up, Beakley wastes no time.

"Scrooge, come home _now_." No "sir," no "Mr. McDuck."

"Are you daft? It's the middle of the work day!" he counters, and she can practically hear him waving his hand about for emphasis.

She shakes her head. "You're going to want to see this. You _need_ to be here." For whatever reason, she can't bring herself to deliver the life-altering news over the phone. It just doesn't seem right, so she pleads, "Just trust me."

Perhaps it's the sincerity in her tone or the sudden curiosity picking at him, but Scrooge sighs and agrees with, "Very well."

After telling his secretary he'll be back soon, he goes down to the garage and climbs into the limo Launchpad has waiting and running for him. The drive home takes minutes, but he somehow still manages to get pulled into a daydream as he watches the daytime moon skip along the blurring treetops.

By the time Scrooge strolls through the front door and Beakley wordlessly guides him by the arm into the dining room, Della has already dived into telling stories about her adventures on the moon to her audience of the kids and Donald, who have gathered around her at the table in disbelieving, happy tears. There'll be time for proper reunions and introductions later. Right now, they all just want to share in her presence, and she just wants to eat the non-black-licorice-flavored food that Beakley's set out for her.

But when Scrooge enters the room, all goes silent.

His expression is astonished, but his voice is softer than his own feathers.

"Della?"

Neither of them move as they watch each other, and suddenly it's like they're the only two people in the room.

Scrooge can only think of the last time he ever saw her, of her panicked look and desperate voice as he tried to save her. As he _couldn't_ save her. As her face became synonymous with "_Transmission Lost_," and his world crumbled down through the atmosphere, the remnants drifting off into space.

He has to be dreaming, he tries to convince himself. It's been a while since he last had a dream this torturous and tempting. Her final screams will wake him up any second now, and then he'll spend the rest of the night staring into a cup of ultimately-abandoned tea.

But there are no screams. Only his niece staring wide-eyed back at him, alive and back home.

_She's back._

That thought kicks his tail into gear, and his feet begin to shuffle forward on their own. As soon as they do, Della gets up from his chair at the head of the table and does her best to take equal steps, Earth's gravity still acting as a fickle mistress on her senses.

Scrooge's pace gets faster with every step until finally, he closes the distance between them and they wrap their arms around each other in a hug that brings them unsteadily to their knees.

His tears fall through shut eyes and thoughts free their way through clenched teeth into her hair.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, Della girl. I never should've- I thought I lost- I just cannae believe you're back!" he hiccups into her shoulder, squeezing her tighter.

"Shh, I'm back, Uncle Scrooge. I'm back."

While he feels their roles should be reversed right now, Scrooge lets Della's voice in his ear and comforting hands on his back reassure him. They're proof of her presence, and he's not about to let that go anytime soon.

Della's back, and he's never letting go again.

* * *

_Welcome to my _DuckTales_ one-shots, everybody!_

_Kickin' things off with some reunion fluff. I've had the image of Scrooge and Della meeting in a hug halfway and just the power of it bringing them to their knees in my head for about a week now, and I finally started typing it down last night. Again, I have no clue what's happening in today's new episode yet, so I wanted to get this out while I still had the chance._

_Anyway, thank you for reading and reviewing (should you choose to do so)! See ya soon! :)_


	3. First Night

**First Night**

* * *

"What a day" didn't begin to describe the exhaustion Scrooge was feeling.

In the span of a weekend, he'd met his great-nephews, fought several ancient evils, found the jewel of Atlantis amid a flurry of perils, and one-upped Glomgold. His joints would definitely be feeling this one in the morning.

It felt good, though, especially considering his nephews were moving into the mansion now. He'd miss the type of energy their presence brought, and he was already anticipating future adventures with them all.

As the day wound down, they all sat around the dining room table, eagerly chatting about their adventure and planning out the logistics of living together. The lights were dimmed to a cozy setting, encouraging them all to go to bed but to take their time doing so. Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby would all be camping out in the living room that night, since the boys' room still needed to be set up. Donald would be staying in a guest room for "one night _only_," he insisted, just until Launchpad could transport his boat from the marina to Scrooge's pool.

As tired as they were, no one wanted the night to end.

"Movie nights! Oh, we should have movie nights!" Dewey suggested, sliding a bottle of juice between his palms on the table.

Huey scribbled down his suggestion in the notebook he had in front of him, while Louie added, "Definitely should combine that with pizza night!"

Scrooge smirked at how easily they were integrating their lives into their new surroundings. He bit his tongue to keep himself from adding game nights into the mix, opting instead to bite into the apple pie Mrs. Beakley had made. Even he knew that it was too soon to introduce them to _that_ beast.

By the time Beakley returned to the dining room and announced that she had gathered enough blankets and pillows in the living room for the kids, Scrooge had finished his pie. She picked up his and the others' plates and disappeared into the kitchen.

As the boys and Webby made to leave the table, he stopped them. There was still one more order of business to attend to.

Standing up with a stretch and taking a few steps towards them, Scrooge gathered them into a circle with a hand around their backs, taking extra notice of the way their eyes sparkled with childlike curiosity. He'd been waiting all day for this moment, but now that it was here, he was glad there were no other adults in the room.

This weekend had been special, no doubt about it. He had his family back in his life, but just as important, they'd gone on their first adventure together. It was something that should've happened years ago, a fact that he knew would be haunting him for awhile, but nevertheless, the occasion needed to be marked.

"I've got something for the lot of you," Scrooge began, taking his hand from Webby's shoulder and reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out four gold coins and held them in the middle of their huddle, giving them a slight shake to make them glint.

The children gaped in awe, with a sense of familiar excitement overtaking Dewey's features.

"These coins are from the treasure room of Atlantis. I managed to grab a handful of them on the way out after we got the real jewel, thanks to Dewey here," Scrooge continued, pausing only to ruffle Dewey's hair good-heartedly, who pushed him off with a laugh. "It was dangerous and took a lot of unexpected turns, but you all went above and beyond, and should be proud. I know I am."

Smiling, he plucked the coins from his palm and handed one to each duckling surrounding him.

"A first adventure is something to remember, to cherish," he ruminated. "It whets the appetite for more, gives you a taste of the thrill. No matter how many we go on, this one will always be special. And that's why I want you to have these, as a reminder of our first adventure together."

The kids marveled at the gold in their hands as Scrooge spoke, but when he finished, they collectively launched themselves at him in a group hug, which he heartily returned.

After saying good night, Scrooge ushered the kids out of the dining room and towards the living room so they could go to sleep. As he did so, he caught sight of Donald standing outside by the pool through the window, and remembered the rest of the gold weighing down his pocket.

He still had one more coin to dole out.

The low illumination of garden lights guided his footsteps to the pool, which itself lit up with an ethereal late-night glow. Crickets chirped lazily on the fringes of the courtyard, singing of summers past when his young niece and nephew would go for midnight swims and wake their uncle with their merrymaking, only for him to join them in the end. Afterwards, they would cuddle together at the edge of the pool, their feet dangling in the water, and stargaze while nature played its soundtrack.

The memory stirred a sense of nostalgia in Scrooge as he approached Donald, who now stood alone where they once laid together, his head tilted back towards the stars and the underside of his beak lit up by the pool lights.

"Hey, lad." The gentleness in Scrooge's voice surprised even himself as he joined his nephew. There was ten years of pent-up silence standing between them, something Donald was very clearly still aware of, given how he had yelled at him earlier about the Spear of Selene. But then again, he'd also been on board with the boys moving in afterwards, so that had to count for something. This could go either way.

"Hey," came his answer. Donald sounded more tired than anything, which was understandable, especially considering he'd been with Glomgold for most of the trip to Atlantis.

Scrooge winced at the thought. "I'm sorry my rivalry with Glomgold put you in harm's way. You, and the boys," he said awkwardly before he realized what he was doing.

Donald shrugged. "You got us out of it, didn't you?"

"Heh, I think we both know Dewey deserves the credit there. They all do, actually."

Donald hummed in agreement with the point, and then there was a beat. Their eyes watched the stars through a clear sky, but their hearts strayed to the empty spot on Scrooge's other side, knowing that its usual occupant was lost somewhere far above their heads, a cosmic angel. She would've been proud of this weekend.

"Ye raised them well."

Donald finally turned to Scrooge, stunned. "Huh?"

"The boys, ye raised them well."

Caught off-guard by the sudden compliment, Donald shied into a blush and could only stutter, "I- well- Th-thanks."

Scrooge left it at that, knowing that now wasn't the time nor place to continue _that_ particular conversation, lest they descend into trading verbal punches of blame. It was too soon to risk that. Instead, he latched onto the quiet kindness that had settled between them and changed the subject. "I gave the kids a gold coin each from the treasure room, to mark their first adventure."

Unsure of what kind of response his uncle was looking for, Donald simply asked, "Oh yeah?"

Nodding, Scrooge reached into his pocket and pulled out another coin. "I know it wasn't _your_ first adventure, but...here." He offered the coin to Donald, who took it with a hesitating hand before eyeing it suspiciously.

"What's the catch?" he wondered aloud.

Scrooge laughed and couldn't stop himself from jostling Donald into a one-armed hug against his side. "No catch," he explained. "Just something to remember their- _our_ first adventure together with them."

Donald stiffened in surprise at Scrooge's touch, but gradually melted into the hug, letting his arm stay around his shoulder. He stared at the coin, trying to ignore the feeling in his gut that this was wrong, that Della should be getting this instead, not him. He wrapped his fingers around it and sucked in a breath, vowing that he was accepting it on her behalf. Glancing back up at Scrooge, he whispered, "Thanks, Uncle."

"Don't mention it, laddie."

Together, they looked back up at the sky, watching the twinkling stars for all of four seconds before Donald let out a yawn that he barely caught with the back of his fist to his beak.

Scrooge patted his shoulder with a slight chuckle. "Ye should get some sleep."

"No argument here," Donald agreed as his feet automatically turned towards the mansion. "Good night, Uncle Scrooge."

"Good night, my boy," he returned, watching Donald's figure disappear through the back door. He then turned back to the pool, catching the reflection of the rising half moon against the water before looking up at the satellite itself. The crickets were still chirping and for a moment, he felt the peace that only those lost summer nights could bring.

Sighing in satisfaction, Scrooge reached into his coat once again and let his fingers linger on the two remaining coins within. He took out the one he'd deemed for himself and flipped it in the air with a flourish. The memories of the adventure and the promise of more to come glinted along the gold's edge, causing him to smile.

This was one coin that wasn't going to the Money Bin.

* * *

_Only one adventure in and Scrooge is ready to adopt and love them all, huh?_

_Anyway, this started out as just Scrooge giving the kids the gold coins, but then I wanted Donald to get a coin, too, so here we are._

_Thanks for reading and for the love on the previous chapter!_


	4. First Night (Should've)

**First Night (Should've)**

* * *

Donald should've been happy, he really should have.

Sure, he'd been fired just under a week ago for blowing up company property (so he left the engine running on the tugboat—he was new on the job!), and he'd spent the past week bouncing between motels and José and Panchito's couch while barely having enough to buy food, and his sister had been lost to the cosmic grasp of the stars right before all that.

But his yet-to-be-born nephews were safe, and he'd fixed up the tugboat enough to deem it habitable for the four of them as he continued to work on it. (The fact that his ex-employer had let him keep it, wreck or no wreck, still astounded him.)

It was the most triumphant Donald had been in a while.

But it fell on an empty soul.

Instead of celebrating their first night in their new home, Donald sat dejected at the edge of the booth in the dining area, his sailor cap within elbow's reach on the table next to him. The moon peered through the window over his shoulder at the carriage in front of him, lighting up the three eggs that were never meant to be his, not like this. Outside, each knock of the waves against the hull hushed his thoughts to no avail.

He should've been happy. The boys would have a house to grow up in now.

But it should've been a home.

Loneliness had certainly made a home in Donald's heart, and it seemed his old friend had moved onto the houseboat with them. He hunched forward towards the carriage, pushing it back and forth in time with the waves and the silence as his mind struggled to stay awake. Stay in the light.

Houseboat or not, Donald knew this was all wrong.

He should've been in the mansion right now, with Della and Unc- Scrooge flanking him as they all gaped at the three little bundles of joy that would be greeting them any day now.

He should've been getting ready to be a true uncle, not a de facto father figure.

He should've been supporting his sister as she got ready to begin the greatest adventure of her life.

He should've...he should've...

An ugly sob tore its way from Donald's beak as he fell towards the carriage, his forehead resting against his arms on its edge. With sparse furnishings, the houseboat reverberated with his cries.

_Should've_ was for a perfect world, and if there was anything he'd learned in life, it was that _perfect_ wasn't meant for him.

Perhaps this was what he was meant for—missing his sister and uncle in a foreign boat while planning how to go about raising three orphans for the next eighteen years.

No family, just misfortune.

He wasn't cut out for this. Donald loved his nephews, and perhaps this _was_ his purpose now, but he was going to fail. He had no clue what he was doing. He was going to fail the boys, and Scrooge, and Della, and–

_Bap!_

Something tapped Donald's head, making him pop up in alert mode. Sniffling back his tears, he jerked his neck back and forth before his eyes finally landed on the intruder to his lonely night—a tiny duckling staring wide-eyed up at him, a piece of eggshell capping his noggin.

_Holy duck, they're hatching!_

The thought halted all of Donald's senses as the little one in front of him waved a yellow wing further and further forward until it made contact with Donald's arm on the carriage. He watched the wing with fascination. This was real. They were here.

Well, one of them was.

Shaking out of the void of his mind, Donald looked to the other two eggs. A tiny fist had punched through the side of the middle one, but the far one remained undisturbed.

As he kept an eye on them (the middle one was really tearing through his shell), his attention shifted back to the hatched triplet. He carefully lifted the remnant of shell from his head and dared to brush his fingers across the tuft of feathers sticking up. They were fuzzy and soft, and if love had texture, this would be it.

Donald's heart melted as the duckling reached for his wrist, and he lowered his hand slowly. The most the newborn could do was pat his wrist, but doing so made him giggle. Donald was ready to leave his hand there all night just to hear that sound.

As the firstborn continued to play with his limb, he used his other hand to pick bits of egg away from the second duckling, who had finally broken out of his shell and was looking every which way he could at the world around him.

Donald envied him; everything held equal fascination and potential to his new eyes. No hurt or fear, just a fresh curiosity for the start of his own adventure.

Just like Della.

The sudden reminder that this was supposed to be Della's moment, that these were _Della's kids_, brought a fresh wave of tears to Donald's eyes, and his hand faltered. He wanted to be happy for the boys—he _was_ happy—but he'd never missed her more than he did right then.

He stroked the feathers on the middle duckling's head, unsure if he was trying to reassure him or himself.

Tonight it began.

Once the third triplet hatched, the adventure of a lifetime would begin for all four of them.

It left Donald in a strange limbo, being aware of this milestone. It reminded him of counting down to the turn of the century, those last ten seconds before the 1900s were gone altogether and the 2000s began, whether he was ready for them or not. A reminder to savor these moments, because his life was about to permanently change.

He decided to focus on keeping the first two ducklings entertained since the third was taking his sweet, steady time, and wondering about what this night should've been like was wearing down his nerves.

By the time the third duckling opened his sleepy eyes to the world over forty minutes later, the moon had wandered out of view from the window. Donald had fetched three baby blankets from a box, and now that all three boys were here, he set to work on swaddling each one with a nimble touch. With each blanket, the boys got their names: Huey, Dewey, and Louie. Just like Della had always planned.

Being wrapped up seemed to calm the ducklings' energy, so Donald sat back down and, with some juggling, came to hold all three of them in his arms, taking care to support their tiny frames. They looked so cute when tired, so much so that he couldn't resist nuzzling them closer and thinking, if just for a split second, _Wow, I'm the luckiest duck in the world_.

Because maybe his sister was lost in space. Maybe he didn't have his uncle's mansion to call home anymore, or Scrooge to have by his side through this new chapter in their lives, or even just a steady job to put bread on the table. Maybe the future, for all intents and purposes, was bleak.

But despite all the heartbreak, Donald still had love. The three tiny miracles in front of him were proof of that.

And that was all he needed to keep going.

* * *

_Huey is right - Donald is rich in love._

_Look at that though, three stories in and I'm already writing mini-arcs for my one-shot collection. That's a new personal record. XD __There's one more chapter to come for this arc. Want a tiny hint about it? I've already posted the chapter name in the table of contents. ;)_

_Even though these chapters all stand on their own, I kinda picture this chapter as what Donald's thinking about when he's standing by the pool before Scrooge comes to talk to him in the last chapter. So many first nights. Next chapter will have a...similar theme._

_See ya then!_


	5. First Night (Been Like This)

**First Night (Been Like This)**

* * *

No one wanted to go to bed on Della's first night back on Earth and safe in McDuck Manor. There was the triplets' insistence of a camp-out in the living room. Donald offered her a place in the houseboat for the night, but when she insisted that she would just sleep in a guest room, he not-so-subtly claimed the room next to hers.

Everyone just wanted to be close to Della. At this point, she just wanted to sleep on a real bed.

After insisting that she would still be there in the morning with a flattered laugh, they relented and shuffled off to bed, but not before sharing a round of hugs for the umpteenth time that day. Scrooge was convinced he'd seen more hugs in the time since Della had returned than he had in his entire life.

This was the thought that followed him as he made his final rounds for the night, stopping by his own room just long enough to retrieve something from his nightstand drawer and slip it into his pocket before ending up in the doorway of his nephews' shared room. The sight that greeted him made his heart melt.

The boys were all sitting around Della on the bottom bunk, her arms wrapped around Huey and Louie at her sides and Dewey's arms slung over her shoulders from where he kneeled behind her, his head resting against hers. As they snuggled into her, eyes closed and smiles crinkling their features, she rocked them back and forth. The past eleven years didn't matter right then; nothing did, except for the shared feelings of love and comfort. And–

And then she was singing.

"Look to the stars, my darling baby boys. Life is strange and vast..."

A spike of nostalgia choked Scrooge, and he caught himself with a hand on the doorframe. It'd been so _long_ since he had heard her lullaby. It was something he had refused to let himself even think about after losing her (even though his dreams had other plans early on), and yet, here she was, singing it with no hint of rust.

"...unafraid of the unknown, because I'll face it all with you."

As Della finished the melody, she looked up from her sons to her uncle, locking gazes with him in a tender moment of familiarity, and only then did he realize his eyes were misting over.

After letting the song settle, the only sounds heard were the boys' sniffles piercing the air. Eventually, Della turned and gave each of them a kiss on the forehead, then saw them off to bed. Determined as ever, she managed to tuck them all in, even Huey on the top bunk, despite the way Earth's gravity was weighing down on her.

With a hesitant "I love you" from the doorway, as if testing the words for the first time, Della turned off the lights and Scrooge stepped back into the hallway to give her room to close the door. Finally, she faced her uncle.

Scrooge, for his part, was still in awe of her performance. "That...that was beautiful," he said, his voice low and soft. "Last time I heard that, they were just wee eggs."

Della offered him a bashful shrug. "I wanted them to hear it in person. I thought about how this moment would go for so long, and...I just want them to think I'm a good mother."

"Trust me, you don't need to prove yourself. They already think the world of ye." Scrooge pulled her into a sideways hug and planted a kiss on the side of her head. He kept his arm around her, partly to support her and partly for closeness, as he asked, "Want to go talk outside?"

"Sure."

The two ducks made their way through the second story of the manor and ended up on the balcony overlooking the backyard.

Save for the glow peeking around the corner from the pool area, only moonlight illuminated their view. A slight wind rattled the trees below, and intermittent cumulus clouds littered an otherwise crystal-clear sky. Scrooge considered their timing fortunate; it'd been raining on and off all week.

Della immediately looked up out of habit as she reached the edge of the balcony, turning every which way until her eyes finally found the moon behind her. Sunlight filled half of it as it hung over the mansion, and she leaned back on her elbows against the stone railing to watch it, Scrooge copying her position as he joined her. It comforted a small part of him to see the familiar motion from her once again.

They simply stayed there for a while, silently watching the cosmos parade ever onward above. It was something they had done plenty of times together, but now it felt different. Della had just _come_ from there. His stars had been her home for the past decade, and now she was just...back. Back on a planet that probably felt like it didn't belong to her anymore.

A gentle sigh escaped Della, and Scrooge found himself wondering, "What was it like?"

"On the moon?"

He nodded, and she gave a noncommittal shrug as she thought aloud. "It's...different."

This surprised him. Of course he knew it was different, but he would've expected some form of excitement as an answer when it came to actually _living_ on the moon, circumstances aside, especially from the duck who wanted to give her boys the stars. "How so?" he asked.

"Well, it's..." Della started, then trailed off, her eyebrow quirking up as she looked around in thought, before looking up at the moon again. "Alright, you see the moon there?"

"How could I not?" Scrooge muttered in a teasing tone, earning an eye roll and a smirk from his niece.

"Be serious," she chided, no bite to her voice. She leaned in towards him, pointing as she instructed, "Try to stay still, and watch the moon move in relation to the roof for a minute."

He did as told, and together, they watched as the moon dipped surprisingly fast behind a corner of the chimney before emerging again, making a beeline for the horizon of the rooftop.

"Quick one, she is, isn't she?" Scrooge noted, swiveling his head to Della when she didn't answer. She sat there, still staring and completely enthralled.

"It's been so long since I've actually seen it like that..." she whispered to herself, seemingly forgetting she wasn't alone. "Oh god, _I_ was just there..."

The next few seconds went by in slow-motion for Scrooge. He could see the exact moment when the reality of everything that had happened to herself in the past eleven years struck Della. It was as if life had pinched her now that she was back, letting her know that, indeed, she really had been stuck on the _moon_ for so long. That she'd missed so much.

The instant her gaze dropped from the sky, her eyes welling with unstoppable tears, Scrooge had his arms around her. She clutched the lapels of his coat, shaking and crying, and he held her in a furiously protective grip, trying to stay strong for her sake.

"Uncle Scrooge..." she sobbed against his shoulder. The sound broke his heart. The last time he heard a cry like that from her had been when she disappeared. He held her tighter, his teeth clenching, as he tried to assure himself that she was really there. That this was just the first step in mending the pain that he had inflicted upon both of their hearts all those years ago.

"I-It's alright, Della girl. It's alright. I've got ye. You're safe. You're _home_."

When she let out a particularly pained sob in response, and her breaths turned sharper, he moved a hand up to cradle the back of her head, smoothing her hair with soft strokes.

Scrooge didn't keep track of how long they stood there, but when Della calmed down, neither of them made any effort to move. When she spoke again, it came out as muffled and weary and just slightly bitter against his frame.

"It's lonely, is what it was. Magnificently lonely. I mean, yeah, there was a giant moon bug there to aggravate me over the years–" He cocked a silent eyebrow in question over her shoulder at that. "–and a...and I mean, it helped to think I was sending you transmissions of myself...even if you didn't get them..." That made him wince in guilt. "But otherwise? It's just so...so empty."

She finally pulled away just enough to look at him. Her eyes were puffy and watery, and a mumbled "sorry" left her beak as she tried to smooth away the rumpled tear stains on his shoulder. Scrooge caught her wrist in a gentle hold.

"Dinna worry about that, lass," he dismissed, lowering her hand between them.

With a sniff and a short, embarrassed laugh, Della took a half-step back, but still let Scrooge keep a hand on her shoulder. "So, as I was saying..." she began, the tremble of her smile betraying her sudden bravado.

"Della, you don't have to–"

She leveled him with a look mixed between determination and a plea. "I _want_ to." When she saw the lingering concern on her uncle's face, she softened. "Please, just let me. I'm good for now, I promise."

Scrooge took a deep breath and relented, following suit as Della turned to the sky once again. The clouds seemed to have multiplied, but the very top sliver of the moon was still visible above the roof.

"...So, as you can see, the moon moves very quickly when you're on Earth," she explained with a barely-contained laugh when she realized the moon wasn't going to cooperate with her astronomy lesson anymore.

The two of them took to leaning against the railing again, watching the stars themselves as Della continued, "But it's different on the moon. The Earth just...doesn't move. It rotates, and you can see it move through different phases, but otherwise, it's just always in the same spot in the sky."

Scrooge hummed in amused interest, glancing out of the corner of his eye to watch for his niece's feelings on the matter. She seemed to be thinking to herself, trying to find the words to describe her observations.

"It made me impatient, having Earth there as a constant reminder," she said quietly. "Everything I love and wanted was _right there_, and I just couldn't reach it, no matter how hard I tried. But at the same time, that's what kept me going."

"Because nothing can stop Della Duck," Scrooge grinned conspiratorially, taking pride in her tenacity. If there was ever a McDuck trait that he was grateful she got, it was that.

She offered an equally devious smirk in return. "You know it."

There was a beat as the moment faded, and then Della sighed. "I guess the other major thing is that a day on the moon lasts a whole month. I tried to keep track of Earth time as best as I could, but I didn't really _feel_ it after a while. Time itself changed for me." She looked down at the strand of hair she had wrapped around her finger. "I guess everything did."

Scrooge shrugged. "Not everything."

The way she glanced up at him curiously reminded him of why he had originally brought her out there, and he rapped his knuckles against the railing. "This old mansion's still standing, for one."

"Is that all?"

"No, the Money Bin's still there, too." Della cracked up, and he beamed, then realized, "Actually, heh, everybody who lived here before you left is still around now, even Duckworth." A sudden wave of peace washed over him: with Della back, he still had everyone he loved, everyone he cherished, in his life, with some new faces to boot in Launchpad and Lena.

He carried on, gaining traction. "And, thankfully, the family legacy lives on."

Before Della could question him, Scrooge reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin, one that he had been keeping beside his bed for over a year, flipping it with his thumb in the air towards her. She caught it expertly with one hand and studied it.

"Atlantis," he nodded towards the coin. "The boys' first adventure. I gave each of 'em a coin to mark the occasion, like I did with you and Donnie on your first adventure, and I...I kept one for you. I..." He couldn't bring himself to say it. That he kept it in her memory. That having the boys appear in his life reignited the presence of her spirit in his heart. The thought spooked him and he let out a shaky breath, changing gears as he said, "I knew their mother should have one. You would've been proud."

When a flash of pain crossed her face at the reminder that she had missed their first adventure, he corrected himself. "You _will_ be proud. Oh Della, just wait until you go on your own adventure with them for the first time." He got starry-eyed as he nudged her with his shoulder. "They're just like ye."

Della flipped the coin over in her palm, noting the Atlantean engravings, before she clutched it with her fist and stared at her hand. "This coin is gonna see two adventures," she promised, more to herself than anyone. She turned to Scrooge and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Uncle Scrooge."

He caught her at his side with his arm and nuzzled his head against hers in response.

They stayed like that for a while in comfortable silence, watching the stars and catching a few meteors, until a few raindrops landed on their beaks. They turned around towards the horizon and saw the storm front that had crept up behind them during their stargazing.

As the rain started to come down in spades, Scrooge stood up straight and made for the balcony's door, relaying, "We should go back inside, my dear." It was getting late, anyway, and he _knew_ she was tired.

But when he opened the door and took a step back to let her go in first, only to see she hadn't followed him, his eyes trailed back to the railing to see a sight more valuable that all the gold in his Money Bin.

Della stood tall, her head tilted back and laughter bubbling freely from her beak. The rain gained strength by the second as it soaked her feathers, yet she welcomed every drop, throwing her arms open wide to the heavens.

It was the one difference she had failed to mention—there was no rain on the moon. Yet as drenched as she was getting, it was evident how much she had missed it, and how much it was healing her spirit. It made her shine.

And that, in turn, healed his soul.

* * *

_Bet you all thought this was gonna be all angst, huh?_ ;) _Kudos to whoever gets the "magnificently lonely" reference._

_Also, happy birthday week to the boys! Congrats, you actually got your mom back in my book. :D_

_That wraps up this little "First Night" mini-arc. Up next on_ Tales of Gold:_ hopefully some fulfilled requests._


	6. The Knights of Team Uncle

**The Knights of Team Uncle**

* * *

"Peaceful" had been the last word Scrooge expected to use to describe his and Donald's day out with the eggs, yet here he was.

With Della needing a break, Scrooge had brought the boys to the Billionaires' Club. He had some minor work tasks to take care of, and seeing as how the Money Bin was far too hectic an environment to bring the eggs to, he decided the club was the best place to handle both, along with whatever shenanigans that would inevitably arise with his hapless nephew.

So when he caught himself quirking his beak up at the stillness that had overtaken his half of the club's lounge, Scrooge was understandably surprised. The contract he'd been looking over fell to his side on the couch he'd been sitting on as he got up to stretch and take a look at the grandfather clock in the corner. Soft jazz wafted throughout the room from his radio on the mantle, punctuated by a gentle snore that caught his attention.

Scrooge turned towards the noise, and his heart melted on sight.

Donald sat atop his nephews' eggs in Scrooge's armchair, asleep and dead to the world. His limbs were sprawled out and his beak agape, and the latest addition to his collection of parenting books—_Parenting for Dum-Dums_, his uncle noted—laid forgotten on his chest.

It was too precious a moment to miss, and Scrooge needed to capture it.

Deft in his movements so as to not wake him, he got Donald's handheld digital camera out of his backpack across the room and turned back around. He was able to turn the camera on and, with some luck, managed to snap a clear photo of the scene.

The only thing he had forgotten about though was the flash, which caused Donald to open a bleary eye right as the picture was taken.

Scrooge immediately swore as he looked the camera's buttons. "Blasted contraption! They're always changing these things every year!" He hadn't meant to wake Donald up. He spared a guilty glance towards him. "Sorry, Nephew. I dinnae mean to disturb yer slumber."

Donald mumbled a noncommittal sound as he shook off his groggy haze.

"I just had to get a picture of my boys all together is all," Scrooge shared, before returning his attention back to the camera. "If I can find it, that is..." He tried to recall the sequence of buttons Donald had shown him before for accessing the device's memory, and finally found the one he'd just taken. "Aha! I did it! Aww, you look as cute as you did ten years ago as you do now when you're asleep..." He let out a laugh, his accent tinging it with a certain jolly air.

Donald had managed to hop carefully off the eggs and was now looking over his uncle's shoulder at the photo. When he saw his sleepy expression, he squawked in indignation. "Hey! Delete that!"

He tried to swipe the camera from Scrooge's grasp, but Scrooge held him at bay with one hand, the other outstretched from Donald's reach.

"Never! It's-" Scrooge snarled through the struggle. "A precious family- memory!" He finally pushed Donald off of him and raised the camera in victory, before returning it to the backpack and zipping it shut decisively. As he turned back around, he stared pointedly at his nephew. "Besides, we promised Della we would take more photos on our days out with the eggs."

"Oh fine," Donald rolled his eyes as he relented.

Before they could move on to a new topic, a rumble broke through the silence.

"Hungry much, lad?" Scrooge smirked, causing Donald to blush at just how incriminating his stomach was. "Why don't ye go get some lunch, eh?"

Donald shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "Nope. I gotta watch the eggs."

Now it was Scrooge's turn to roll his eyes. "Nonsense! I can watch them!" He walked behind Donald and started pushing him towards the door. "Go on, go get something from the club's kitchen. Take a little break; you've earned it."

It was painfully true—ever since Della had laid her eggs, Donald had been working himself to the bone trying to prove himself as a good uncle. When Della had been gravid, Scrooge had overheard Donald confessing to her that he just wanted to be for the triplets what Scrooge had been for the twins in their youth. He wanted to live up to Scrooge's reputation as a parental figure.

The starkness of that confession had both humbled and gnawed at Scrooge, and while he didn't want to let on that he'd been eavesdropping, he did his best to make sure Donald got the encouragement and affirmation that he so rightfully deserved. He had no doubt that his nephew would be the best uncle, not because he had Scrooge for a role model, but because he was driven purely by love and dedication for his sister and his own nephews.

That said, Scrooge also did his best to ensure that Donald knew that this was a group effort. "_It takes a village to raise a child!_" he liked to point out seemingly every other week. Donald needed to learn that he could rely on and trust his family.

With this in mind, Scrooge stopped the two of them at the lounge's door and placed a soothing hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Go relax and eat something, and take your time. I'll watch the eggs."

Donald hesitated, looking between his uncle and the nest on his armchair.

"We're Team Uncle, aren't we?" Scrooge held up his hand as if offering a pact, and remembered the story the three of them had made up and told the eggs the other night. "The knights to Queen Della and her princes?"

With a final glance towards the eggs, Donald gave him a tired, but committed smile and took his hand in solidarity. "That we are. In that case, this knight is gonna go have a double-decker sandwich."

Scrooge chuckled at Donald's retreating figure, then closed the door and walked over to his unhatched family in his chair. As he picked up the nest and sat down with the eggs on his lap, he cooed, "Donnae you wee ones worry. Uncle Scroogie's got ya. Unca Donnie will be right back."

He settled into the cushions with a sigh and made sure the eggs were all balanced, then reached over his shoulder and pulled the checkered throw blanket he had on the back of his chair down and wrapped it snugly around the three of them, so they were all cocooned in his embrace. The jazz was still playing on his radio, and he felt the weight of that morning's work lifting from his shoulders.

He started thinking about the fairytale he had brought up to Donald again and smiled. "Your mother really is every bit the queen we said she is," he told the eggs, before leaning in conspiratorially to whisper to them. "But did you know your ol' Uncle Scrooge was a king way back not one, but _two_ centuries ago? I was the King of the Klondike!" He raised a triumphant fist with the title and looked heroically on, before settling his gaze on the nest again. "I had a queen, too: the Ice Queen of Dawson—a sneaky one, she was. Always tryin' to steal her king's gold—and his heart. Oh, he tried to stop her each an' every time, but she was a powerful lass, and seemed to always know where the key was. And one day, they got roped into a battle against..."

Scrooge fell easily into his storytelling, his hands waving about for emphasis and his voice dripping with every bit of dramatic tension he could muster, though still soft so as to not to disturb the peace of the afternoon. By the time he finished the story, however, he had succumbed to the cozy presence of his family and the inviting warmth of his chair, and nodded off into a deep nap.

This is how Donald found him when he came back from his lunch (and boy, what a lunch it was).

Scrooge's head was tilted forward towards his chest, his spectacles sliding down his beak and his top hat askew. He looked all too indulgent in his sleep, yet still had a protective hold on the eggs, which made his nephew breathe a sigh of relief.

It was adorable and sweet.

And the perfect opportunity for revenge.

Donald set the bottle of juice he had brought back with him down on an end table and retrieved his camera from his backpack, then lined up for the shot. He was much more knowledgeable with the technology than Scrooge was, yet there was still a distinct flash when Donald took the picture.

The burst of light, of course, woke Scrooge up, and he jolted his ahead around in an alert daze. "Whazza- who?" His hands instinctively held the eggs closer to his body, and his eyes finally landed on his nephew just as he snapped another photo of Scrooge's confusion, making him grumble and rub his eyes.

When he opened them again, he saw Donald waving the camera around with an impish grin. Were it not for the eggs on his lap, he would've tackled him into a playful headlock just for the sheer smugness on his face.

Yet before Scrooge could insist that the photos be deleted, Donald beat him to the punch.

"Two can play that game, Uncle."

* * *

_I LIVE!_

_So basically, I noticed the background of a certain picture in Monday's new episode and connected the dots that it had been taken at the Billionaires Club. A friend on discord pointed out that "scrooge probably took that photo while he and donald had the eggs for the day." I elaborated a bit on the idea in a tumblr post, and then this fic happened today._

_Needless to say, it's been a fluffy 24 hours for me. :D_

_Also, you guys have no idea how many fic ideas I've been getting during this DuckBomb. This is just the tip of the iceberg._


	7. Eyes On Me

**Eyes On Me**

* * *

They'd been taunting each other all night, whenever the acoustics allowed for it.

"That nugget is mine and you know it!"

_Clink, clink, clink._

"It's only yours if you can reach it first, Sourdough!"

"Why don't ye go back to Dawson? Yer heart's going to start melting in this desert!"

"No way, hon. I plan to be dancing here once Gumption becomes a–"

_Kaboom!_

"–_Boom_ town!"

Silence.

"Aw, come on! That was a good one and you know it!"

The dust from the latest explosion on Goldie's side of the mine shaft settled, and yet still she was met with more silence. Her pulse quickened. _Why wasn't he answering her with another jab?_

"Scroogie? You there?"

Her feet were already moving towards the ladder by the time her echoes faded.

* * *

She was straddling him when he came to, that much he was aware of.

"...Vi-vixe– ye no-good par..."

Goldie paid little mind to what Scrooge was babbling about, instead opting to simply be grateful that he was alive. Awake and alive. She continued her work on tying his bandana around his arm.

It seemed her last explosion of dynamite had caused some rubble to fall from the ceiling onto him, knocking him out and giving him a rather serious slice down his upper-left arm, tearing his sleeve in the process. She'd found him on his back, battered and banged up, his arm bleeding out and himself dead to the world.

Thankfully the last part hadn't proven too literal, but she'd still had to fight back the tears that had sprung to her eyes after she'd jumped a third of the way down his ladder and saw him lying there. After pulling Scrooge off to the side and leaning him against the wall of the tunnel, Goldie held him close and first checked his pulse to steady her own heart, then assessed him for damage and set to work on wrapping his arm.

"Stay with me, Scroogie," she pleaded as she finished the knot on his bandana. "No more games tonight." The gold they'd been fighting each other over fell away from her mind, pushed out by panic.

"You...yer never not playing." Now that he was conscious, Scrooge was taking exhausted, labored breaths with each utterance. At least he seemed to be regaining some coherence. "Ya followed me all the way...f-from Dawson..."

Goldie took a moment to size him up. She'd stopped the bleeding, but she really needed to get him out of the tunnel. Given his current awareness and the stability of the ladder though, she would have to wait a bit. Carrying him out was out of the question.

He could probably use some water though.

She looked around and spotted his canteen among the rubble, near his misplaced headlamp and hat. His pickaxe laid off to the side, its handle broken in half. She started to get up to go grab the water, but the movement made Scrooge jolt up with a wince, one that made her freeze.

"Ack! Lass, my leg!"

"What? What'd I do?!" Goldie asked in a panic. She hadn't found anything wrong with either of his legs when checking him over, and yet now he was in pain. At least the jolt had brought him out of his daze a little more.

Scrooge gasped through the discomfort. "Ye...it wasn't you. I dislocated it in a fall earlier. Had to...pop it back in m'self. Still sore."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise at his..._gumption_, both impressed and concerned for the fact that he had kept on mining afterwards. He caught her wary expression and tried to play it off with, "Heard there was a pilferin' prospector new to town...had to go set them straight...at once." He sent her a pointed look.

She flinched at the implication. "Oh god. Sorry," Goldie apologized as she tried to stand up again without disturbing him. She was successful this time, but she didn't miss the way Scrooge let out a small involuntary whine at the sudden lack of her presence. "Just gonna grab your canteen, Scroogie," she explained.

He nodded and she walked over to get the item in question, watching her step for any loose rocks that posed a slipping hazard. When she returned to his side, this time kneeling down next to him, she noticed his eyes fluttering closed again.

"Scrooge, hey, c'mon, stay with me," she beckoned as she popped the cap off the canteen. She forced him to take a few light sips, then poured a little onto her hand and dabbed at his forehead, cheeks, and neck to wake him up some more. It seemed to do the trick as his eyes managed to stay open for longer than a few seconds.

"Yer so beautiful, Goldie..." Scrooge tried to reach his right hand out to her on his other side, but she caught it and held it between them. "Gorgeous Glittering Goldie O'Gilt," he trilled, his state prohibiting him from fully enunciating the words.

She patted the back of his hand, trying to keep herself from smirking. "Oh boy. Did you get a concussion in that fall earlier?"

"I think so..." He looked down at their hands. "Coulda been from the day before last though...or jus' now with that rock..."

A twang of guilt stabbed at Goldie, and some sensible part in the back of her brain cursed her for what she was about to admit. "I'm sorry I caused this, Scrooge."

He tried to shrug it off with his good arm and a crooked, sad grin in her direction. "All in the name of gold, eh, lass?"

She shook her head. "No, I mean it." She gave his hand a squeeze. "Like I said, no more games tonight."

He snorted in disbelief. "Like I 'aven't seen how _that_ game turns out."

Goldie had to bite her tongue to keep herself from outright yelling, but it did little to contain her rage. "Dammit, Scrooge!" she seethed. "Even when I'm telling the truth, you still don't believe me!"

"You've never given me reason to before."

A flood of memories from White Agony Plains filled her mind, of all the times they'd fought each other, loved each other, and, on the rare occasion, _trusted_ each other. Neither of them were saints, but deep down, they did care for each other and knew when the other was being serious. Or so she thought.

Goldie growled and swung a leg over his lap so she was straddling him again, not caring right then how the action made him yelp in pain, try as she did to avoid doing so. She slid her fingers in between his whiskers and cupped his face so she could make him look right up at her. His breath caught in his throat, unsure of where she was going with this.

"Keep your eyes on me, Scrooge." She watched his own, waiting the few seconds it took for him to give her his undivided attention. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry our stupid little competition went too far this time and I'm sorry you got hurt. I'm sorry _I_ hurt you."

She hoped he would pick up on the deeper weight of the last apology. The regret from White Agony had followed her out of the cave and all the way down to Gumption, it seemed, into another cave. And once again, she had hurt him.

But this time, she wasn't walking out on him. Not like this, anyway.

She dared to loosen her hold on his cheeks by a hair to give him the chance to respond, but still kept her stare directly on his, not noticing how she leaned in ever so closer to his beak in the ensuing silence.

After a rather freeing breath, Scrooge gulped. "Thank you," he confessed in a wavering tone. No games, no tricks. He believed her, and by letting himself do so, felt a weight lift from his heart that only she could move.

As gingerly as she could, Goldie closed the distance between them and kissed him softly, uttering a thousand more apologies with the gesture. With each successive kiss, her left hand moved further down, keeping in contact with his feathers until it rested just below his neck. Her other hand reached further behind his head so she could pull him closer, and he mirrored the sentiment by trailing his good hand up to the small of her back. He let his other hand rest on her thigh, his thumb running back and forth against the fabric of her pants.

By the time they broke apart and settled against each other, foreheads touching and eyes trained on what little space remained between them, Scrooge's hand had trailed up to rest along Goldie's jawline, and he was smiling as he murmured, "Gorgeous Goldie..."

Her heart melted at the sincerity in his expression and the affection dripping into his voice. They could taunt and tease each other to the ends of the Earth, race one another in their quest for gold and danger, but at the end of it all, the masks fell where their hearts began. It was the one constant, the one truth, that would always bring them back together.

With a deft twist of her neck, Goldie laid her beak on top of his and planted a kiss right in the center of it.

"I love you, too, Scrooge," she answered, before kissing him again.

There would be no more gold mining tonight, and no more games either.

* * *

_Just a little canon-divergent scene I wrote on a whim. Set during the night where they're mining for the McDuck Nugget in "The Outlaw Scrooge McDuck!"_

_This may have been on a whim, but there was actually a specific lyric I've been wanting to use for a while that's so Goldie at Scrooge ("So keep your eyes on me now"), and then thEY JUST WENT AND HAD THAT SIMILAR LINE IN GOLDIE'S SONG XD Obviously it was a sign ehehe_

_Also, can anyone spot the _Star Trek: The Next Generation _reference?_

_Lastly, but most importantly, thank you to gordon-quid for beta-reading this! 'Twas very helpful and kind of ya! :3_


	8. Into the Inferno

**Into the Inferno**

* * *

Lucky them that whenever the rest of the family hears loud thumping and the occasional crash coming from Uncle Scrooge's room, they know to stay away from that wing of the mansion for the night. Beakley has gotten it down to a science of herding the kids together for a movie night long before any amorous activities begin.

They're more grateful than usual for it on this night, however, but not because of what Beakley _thinks_ they're doing, at least not yet.

A part of Scrooge almost wants to laugh at the sight of Goldie standing on the foot of his bed, hands on her hips and his hat lopsided on her head. She took it from him after tossing her evening shawl in his face as a coy distraction, and now he leaves it running parallel to his scarf around his neck. Whatever point she wants to make from her vantage point, well, she certainly has his attention for it now.

"Let's go over this _one_ more time," Goldie dictates, rocking back on her heels to test the mattress underneath her. They're both just a little tipsy, but that, if anything, has contributed to an extra-playful mood tonight. "When a damsel- no, when _I'm_ standing on the edge of a burning stage, flames threatening to consume me at any second, what do you _not_ do?"

Scrooge grumbles a century-old sigh and repeats the lesson she's reminded him of at least half-a-dozen times over the past few hours. "Stand there like a big dope."

"Right. And what _do_ you do?"

"Let the hose brigade come and rescue you."

"_Scrooge!_"

He laughs and ducks out of the line of sight of her ire, having had way too much fun giving her wrong answers, before rolling his eyes and giving her the one she wants. "Throw aside my pride and save ye."

"There ya go," she nods in approval. "Now, let's try it." With an extra flair of dramatics, Goldie clears her throat and raises the back of her hand to her head, swooning, "Oh!"

Scrooge, for all he's worth, dives into past character and bounds up onto his bed in three steps, carrying on with his lines from that fateful night. "Goldie, I-"

Yet just when he should catch her fainting form, Goldie ducks out of reach of his arm and spins out on the post of his bed to swing herself back around, hanging on with a hand on the frame as she watches him sprawl beak-first into his pillows. The tails of his tuxedo coat have ridden up onto his back and all semblance of dignity seems to leave him while he sinks into the mattress. Her melodious laugh does nothing to help, except to prompt him to glare back at her while leaning on his elbow.

"Whoops, you missed me, tiger," she sings innocently.

With a low growl, Scrooge slowly begins to turn around on his hands and knees like he's stalking his prey. She wants to play _that_ game? Fine by him. The King of the Klondike _always_ gets his gold in the end. "Trust me, I won't make that mistake again," he warns with a scheming grin, and then he pounces.

He leaps forward, scrambling towards her amid a flurry of kicked-up comforter, and she hops off the bed to give chase.

It continues like this for several minutes: Scrooge thinks he has Goldie cornered, only for her to use whatever's at hand to throw him off his game. A chair gets knocked over; their footsteps pound hard on the floor; her shrieks of surprise when his hand grazes across her hip fill the air with merriment. They're like two young Victorian lovers, not giving a care to the prim and proper society to which they belong as they let loose.

When she runs into his walk-in closet and pulls the door shut, he knows he has her. With the distinct _click_ of the inner lock on her part, he knows she knows it, too.

"That was pretty foolish of ye, lass," Scrooge chuckles through the door, crossing his arms as he leans against it. "I have a key, ye know."

He waits for a retort, but when none come, he reaches into a vase on the nearby dresser to pull out the key. Sure, walking blindly into a closed room with Goldie O'Gilt inside is a dangerous idea, he reasons, but that's just his life. And besides, he has an idea.

Door unlocked, Scrooge slips in as quickly as possible and locks the door behind him again. The lights are out, which gives him the advantage since no one knows his closet better than him. But that doesn't stop his heart from beating mercilessly in his ears.

"Oh, Scrooooge..." Goldie lilts from the shadows.

Coat rack. Bingo.

"Yes, my love?" he plays along, sneaking forward with calculated steps.

"Think fast!"

"Huh- _pfft!_"

A face-full of fabric nails Scrooge in the beak, obscuring his vision while a certain vixen zooms past him. He tries to reach out to grab her, but ends up with air. When he finally pulls the fabric from his face, finding the closet door wide open and bedroom light pouring in, he notices that it isn't one of his broadcloth coats like he thought she'd thrown at him, but a dress. _Her_ dress.

His eyes fly wide in stunned realization of what's awaiting him back in his bedroom and, without wasting any more time, he runs to the doorway to spot her, intent on catching her this time. Yet instead of finding what he _thought_ he was going to find, he stumbles across an entirely different scene.

Goldie stands in front of his mirror, still wearing his hat, but now admiring herself in one of his red coats, spinning every which way to get a better angle. _They're all good..._ he thinks hopelessly.

"I can see why you wear these, Scroogie."

She hasn't bothered to tie it closed, he notices as he takes imperceptible steps towards her, and that suits him just fine.

"Warm, durable, lots of pockets." Pulling it close, she gives the collar a sniff and shuts her eyes with a dreamy sigh. "Mmm, smells like your cologne."

There are a million things the image of her in his coat is doing to him, and they all work to propel him further forward while he asks, "Can I have my coat back?"

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" When he nods with an incriminating gulp, she smirks. "Still gotta catch me then!"

Goldie begins her escape once again, but Scrooge is ready this time. When she tries to slip past between him and his bed, he grabs the ends of his scarf and her wrap around his neck and lassoes them around her, earning another gleeful shriek as he pulls her right against him. Their breaths mingle in the limited space between their beaks, and her hands land on his at his hips in a frivolous attempt to push him away.

"Saved ye," he announces in a victorious hush.

Scrooge guides their path back to his bed, his eyes never leaving hers as they fall together on the mattress and revive each other with deep, drawn-out kisses. When he breaks away, it's only for a moment to give her fair warning.

"Now it's my turn to show _you_ what would've happened next."

* * *

_Just some silly little date night shenanigans between these two love birds._


End file.
